


the bilgesnipe in the room

by Wino



Series: The Darcy fix no one asked for [12]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Darcy Lewis Is a Good Bro, Gen, Happy Ending, Jarvis is a gem, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Some Fluff, Some angst, Steve Rogers Feels, Tony Is a Good Bro, there's feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 13:23:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12059865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wino/pseuds/Wino
Summary: Where the elephant doesn’t really describe the size of the situation, and you’d rather pretend the antlers aren’t poking you in the back.





	the bilgesnipe in the room

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bloomsoftly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloomsoftly/gifts).



> First of all, [Bloom,](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloomsoftly/pseuds/bloomsoftly) I hope you like it.  
> You're an amazing person and deserve all the good stuff. So here, hope you like it!  
> Second,[Queenie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenspuppet/pseuds/Queenspuppet), because she's awesome and super patient with me (and an enabler. She lies when she says she's not)  
> Third, [Holly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hollyspacey/pseuds/Hollyspacey), because she agreed to do the part of 'Sam' for the Sam and Darcy conversation (some of the lines are hers!)
> 
> Everyone else, thank you for stepping here, hope you enjoy your stay!

“There’s another one.”

Darcy groaned. Loudly. This was the fourth time this week. And yes, she kind of got it, but _man this was getting ridiculous._

She opened the doors of Baker Shelter and yep, sure enough, the sounds of battle were already creeping up from the streets and people were trying to find somewhere to hide.

“What is it today?” She sighed, “Doombots? A giant hamster?” she shook her head, “no matter. Open the doors. Close the big pen and let the people in.”

Amanda nodded and rushed to the pens.

It was becoming some sort of routine for the people to come and hide in the Shelter. Darcy hadn’t planned on this, it was a _Dog sanctuary_ not some kind of catastrophe refuge, but when she finally realized it was time they prepped for such a situation, they noticed that many people actually had nowhere to go back to. And they couldn’t turn them away, _they weren’t monsters_.

And so Darcy had planned accordingly, and had turned to the only person that could have helped her in such a situation: JARVIS.

Nothing about Baker Shelter had been planned. It had been a spur of the moment thing. Like, this kind of thing? Never happened to people like her. Then again, not many could say they outlived not one but two alien invasions, three if you counted New York (and it did so count!).

And so, the day she purchased a Lottery ticket from the National Lottery website while staying at  Jane’s mother’s tiny dingy apartment, she… well, she had thought ‘well, we almost died, might as well invest 2£ in this.’ She had not really expected to win the Jackpot. She had not expected to become a millionaire overnight. But Holy Shit.

She was rich now. _Filthy rich._ Her student debts were no more, her problems with finding a job? Forget it, she’d feed her grandkids if she had her way. And Jane. Who needed grants anymore? She could have _everything_.

Jane hadn’t been enthused. Or rather, Jane hadn’t really listened, or noticed, at all. And it had probably been that - the absent minded, involuntary rejection - that had stung Darcy  badly enough to decide not to tell her best friend anything.

And the ‘lie’ grew and grew, until it was impossible for Darcy to tell Jane, well, anything. So when Stark had swooped in and offered them a place (and unlimited funding, that got Jane going real fast), she’d been worried her secret was no longer going to be one.

She was wrong. Tony had been very understanding of her predicament and agreed not to say anything.

The Shelter just… kinda happened as a consequence of his contaminating her and her bleeding heart. She had the money, the means, and now a powerful ally such as Tony Stark (and Jarvis!). Opening a shelter by remaining anonymous, buying off a ton of land and pretending to be a volunteer at her own creation had been stupidly easy. She was actually surprised she’d pulled it off.

But no matter.  In the end, Baker’s Dog Sanctuary for Third Strike Dogs had evolved into Baker Shelter, and it was one of the biggest non profit compounds in the city, comprised of the actual Dog Sanctuary building and greenery, and then proper human buildings that, in reality, hosted people in a much more permanent situation than they should. Not that Darcy cared much about it. These people needed it.

She armed herself with a trashcan lid and a wooden spoon she used for the dog food, checked that no canine was nearby (she was not going to spend the afternoon looking for poor terrorized creatures during a whatchamacallit attack) and loudly banged the spoon on the lid. “This way!” She shouted.

The running crowd didn’t need to be told twice. They poured into the buildings and followed the lights into the underground panic rooms she’d insisted they install after the first attacks (if New York had more of these? Yeah, they’d solve so many problems instead of sending people down to the subway stations). They barricaded themselves in and waited for the alarms to go off at any time. The booms and screams from upstairs were deafening despite being so far away.

As soon as the sirens stopped blaring, the poor civilians tentatively poked their heads around, ready to get back to their lives.

And as per usual, the Avengers dealt with the situation within a couple of hours and that left, well, everyone else cleaning up.

No, that wasn’t fair, Tony and his very government friendly cleaning crew did a lot to remove the big stuff. But in the end, apart from paying damages, people literally had to pick up the ruins of their houses and start anew. This time,after a couple of hours of these bouncing magical watermelons (which were a thing!), 35 people had lost their homes for the foreseeable future. Okay. _Okay._ She had this.

“Everyone, please listen up.” She tried to look imposing, but since vertically challenged people were usually invisible from afar, she had to stand on a chair to become the centre of attention. If only it worked with superheroes or science!bros as well. “For those of you who can’t go home, there’s temporary apartments in the compound, you just need to register at the Emergency desk. Please don’t occupy rooms if you have your house in habitable conditions. We’re trying to help, help us help you!” She recited by heart with a droning voice. _Sounding hardly interested and not very impressive? Check._

The crowd dispersed, and Darcy congratulated herself for another good job. Hopefully this situation would solve itself soon. They were almost out of room and she didn’t want to start turning people away.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with this city.” Mumbled Alan from behind the desk at the makeshift reception. “But seriously, this is like the sixth attack in a fortnight.”

Darcy nodded. “I just hope this is the last time.”

* * *

 

It wasn’t.

In fact, it took three more attacks on the population for the ‘real Mastermind’ to come forward and another for the Avengers to finally capture them (Darcy suspected it was a man, but it was seriously hard with the costumes and all that...so). That didn’t stop her from complaining, that day at the Tower.

“Toh-neeeey,” she wailed exaggeratedly walking into his lab, “what is wrong with this city lately? Huh? We’re filled to the brim. Filled. Us! We’re like, the biggest compound in New York! We can’t keep up like this.” No answer.

Tony was deeply focused at his workstation, the soldering iron in his hands.

“Hey, J?” she asked then.

“Yes, Miss Lewis?” JARVIS promptly answered her. J was the absolute best. She should start thinking about adoption.

“Is Tony doing something very dangerous that will explode if I distract him?”

“I don’t think so, Miss Lewis, though may I suggest waiting until Sir is done with the soldering iron?”

She nodded, “got it.” As soon as Tony put down the instrument, she put two fingers at the corners of her mouth and whistled. Loudly.

Tony yelped. “Wha-! Shortstack!” He looked around, as if checking no one was there to witness his unmanly (girlish) scream. “What’s up?”

“We’re out of space. Again.” She sighed. “I’m seriously considering digging under the Subway. Jarvis, what are the chances of me getting away with creating an underground society?”

“The chances of creating a safe and functional secret underground society are extremely small, Miss Lewis.”

Tch. “I knew it.” She deflated on top of Tony’s empty table. “We need more space, more people, this is such a mess, Tony. Like, it was meant to be a _tiny dog shelter,_ not a fully functioning people housing, society rehab center. How did it escalate so quickly?”

“...I blame your bleeding heart.” deadpanned Tony, then held out his hand expectantly. “Give me your phone.”

Her knee jerk reaction was to take a step back and her hand flew instinctively to her phone in her purse. “No?”

He made an impatient gesture with his hand, “Come on, DoubleD, give me some credit here.”

“Yeah, no.” She argued back, “What do you want to do to him?”

“Nothing terrible, I promise. Now gimme.”

Suspiciously, she handed him her phone. He didn’t take it. They stood staring at the phone in her hand for a few seconds. “...Tony?”

“I don’t like to be handed things. Put it on the desk and come back in an hour or so.” _Why you!_

* * *

 

One hour later her phone was laying on the desk. She was almost afraid it would explode in her hands.

“Okay… I’m almost scared to ask, Tony.”

“You wound me, Shorty, wound me!” He exclaimed dramatically. “But no, really, it should be okay.”

She opened her phone hesitantly.

“Good Evening, Miss Lewis, I’m FRIDAY.”

Her phone had an AI. “You… you got me an AI.” She said dumbfounded.

“Well, no.” He defended, “It’s… it’s not like Jarvis, okay? It’s a tiny AI. She can help you vet people and order the stuff you need and book appointments and staff and… _why are your eyes wet Shorty?!_ You said you needed help!”

She had no words, so she shook her head and despite the grease stains on his shirt, she still hugged him (and was she glad there was no arc reactor on his chest anymore). “Thank you, thank you.”

“Yes, yes,” he said awkwardly. “Okay, remove yourself. Now.” He wasn’t really fighting her though.

* * *

 

FRIDAY was much more than Tony had given her credit for (he’d been downplaying her abilities, the smug genius!).

First, she was as quick as JARVIS when compiling data and extrapolating from the results.

Second, once Tony taught her how to access the computers inside the facilities, she’d been the source of invaluable help and information.

She was good enough not to spy into the private homes, but she did check traffic from and to illegal sites. That was fair.

Of course, not even FRIDAY the ‘almost-AI’ could have prepared her for what happened when the houses destroyed by the Doombots were finally habitable again and they needed to empty the temporary ones.

“Darcy?” Billy, a lanky, 30 years old volunteer that was responsible for the Monday shift, started. “We have problems in relocating some of the people?”

Darcy sighed. Of course. It wasn’t the first time they happened to host the homeless, or people that couldn’t go back to their homes. “Okay, we have space for them right?”

“Uhm, yeah…” Billy didn’t sound convinced. “But this one doesn’t even have an ID… I mean, we can’t check without a name, right?”

That was slightly more unusual. How had he entered without giving reception his name? “Okay, let me check, uhm?”

Billy’s face morphed into a relieved grin. “Thanks. I owe you.”

_Sweet Celestia you owe me, Billy. You owe me all the money and the favours. All of it._

Dressed in a too big jacket and a baseball cap, in one of her temporary apartments awkwardly stood the Winter Soldier.

* * *

 

_Okay. Okay. This is cool. You’ve done this with scared animals and stray dogs, this is no different._

_Apart from the whole… 200 pounds of murdery ex-POW with a metal arm, sure. Oh God._

Psyching herself up wasn’t working.

What would anyone with a lick of sense do in this situation?

_Call Tony._ The answer was literally right there. She was one phone call away to solve the problem and probably reunite History’s greatest team. Because that man was Bucky Barnes.  Even if she hadn’t been bombarded with historical pictures of the Howling Commandos since she started school (and if you didn’t know about the Howling Commandos what kind of patriot were you?), and even if you missed all of those memos and somehow forgot what James Buchanan Barnes looked like, the glinting of the metal arm was a dead giveaway.

But.

She did also remember how Bucky had not looked for Steve. In fact, how he’d been so extremely careful not to be found at all by his oldest friend, and how she’d heard Sam say that they needed to respect his need of privacy and time.

And yeah, having hosted more than a dozen scared women in her compound, Darcy had seen first hand the effects of ‘too much love’ and how quickly it devolved into ‘obsession’. If James Buchanan Barnes didn’t want to go to Steve, she had no right to force him into meeting Steve.

That didn’t really solve her problem, though.  

James Barnes hadn’t really moved throughout her inner monologue, but his eyes had narrowed and his posture had tensed minutely. She could relate. It didn’t take a genius to understand he’d been recognized, and he was probably debating if one casualty was worth his anonymity.

Props for not having killed her the first second. And bonus points because he was being very polite, what with waiting and not trying to reach for the cutlery or yeah, showing any kind of reaction that wasn’t the resigned puppy look she was on the receiving end of. _Come ooon._

Three seconds into the stare, Darcy knew James Buchanan knew exactly how his handsome looks and that stare worked with the ladies, because they way he could keep it going was extremely artificial. But eh.

“I need your name, dude, if you’re staying here.” She sighed resignedly. He perked up. “And you’re _not_ freeloading, either. I know you can work. I’m not raising the alarm, if you help around, yeah?”

“The alarm?” He asked, feigning ignorance

She nodded quickly. “Yep. You have a metal arm, dude. I mean, it’s none of my business, and I respect your space and all that, but you are a public figure, you know. There’s even a ‘wanted dead or alive’ sign somewhere, I’m sure.” She joked, and was pleased when he snorted.

“Okay, for the record?” She said when he relaxed. “I did tell you that Steve misses you very much and he’d love to have you back. Okay, my job’s done. What’s your name dude?”

He fidgeted for a while, and then tried, “...Jack?”

“Ooookay, …’Jack’” she air-quoted, “you need new clothes, but we need to repaint the nursery in the other building, so keep those for tomorrow.”

“You’re serious.” He was surprised. “You’ll host me for labour.”

She nodded. “Yep. Told you, it’s none of my business. But I did try to convince you to go back to Steve and was very disappointed when you said no, okay?”

He smiled, and it made him look at least five years younger. “Okay.”

* * *

 

Jack Robins, the people at Baker Shelter found out, was an extremely hard worker.

He didn’t mind doing the heavy lifting, which he did with ease, and didn’t care about getting dirty chasing the dogs or repainting the buildings.  
He wasn’t very outgoing, but he was polite and understanding.

He’d rapidly become the kids favourite, too.

If one overlooked the long sleeves and the gloved fingers, Jack was a perfectly normal, great guy with a good heart.

Darcy was pleased their arrangement was working so well.

After a few weeks, she could almost forget about the brainwashed murdery thing (notion quickly squashed the moment an entitled asshole of one of the girls had marched into the Shelter. Bucky slash Jack had excellent protective instincts and a mean right hook. Not even the police had anything to say).

After a couple of months, she could forget entirely about the whole affair. She wasn’t making much progress on the ‘Steve’ front, and while that was fine, she couldn’t not worry about the fact that ‘Bucky’ may never really be coming back.

These worries were assuaged by the fact that they were now adding another building, and there was too much to do to think about anything else.

Darcy’s days started to become very hectic. Between juggling Jane and Tony (and sometimes Bruce) and running the Shelter, and despite FRIDAY’s amazing job, she had hardly any spare time left.

And so, when FRIDAY told her that Steve and Sam were back from another unsuccessful expedition, she didn’t even register in her mind that this was the moment to worry a bit more about concealing what she was doing in her ‘spare time’.

“Hey, Darcy!” Sam was always the first to greet her, since Steve sometimes needed to cool off or just sigh and mope around a bit. Frankly, it was a relief; Darcy always felt a bit guilty whenever he talked about ‘his Buck’.

“Hey, Sam!” She waved back. It was impossible not to smile with him around, despite her tiredness.  
“Are you okay?” He asked, after taking a good look at her. “You look… well, I don’t know how to say it politely?”

“...Like a zombie?” She supplied and he winced. “Yeah I know, don’t worry, no offense and all that. There’s just been a lot to do. Yeah.” She yawned.

Sam frowned and looked around, and Darcy could see the wheels turning. No Jane in sight, Bruce nowhere to be seen, Tony quietly poking Dum-E in a corner… it didn’t look like the war camp she was coming from. “What-”

She waved him off. “No no, it’s not that. It’s the work at the Shelter.” She added without thinking. What. Oh God she must be more tired than she thought. She almost choked and slapped her hand on her mouth, but restrained. _Okay, play it cool._

“So, uhm, I mean...”

“Miss Lewis?” FRIDAY asked from her phone.

Sam’s eyebrows raised another notch.

“There seems to be some kind of problem at the Baker Sanctuary.” Of course there was. Like, no rest for the wicked, yeah?

She sighed. She had no time to distract Sam and FRIDAY wouldn’t warn her for nothing.

“Sorry, Sam, I need to go… just…” She focused on Tony in the corner. “Ask Tony, yeah? Bye!”

She barely heard Tony’s sputtering as she trotted out of the Tower.

* * *

 

Talking to Tony Stark had reassured Sam Wilson as much as hearing the latest news about the Election rallies. Read, not at all.

He believed Stark when he said that Darcy was okay, and that if she wasn’t she had a panic button, an AI in her phone and no less than three trackers on her person ( _Yes Birdman, she knows about them and she’s not stupid enough to complain considering the kind of spotlight people who work with Avengers get!_ ), but he couldn’t help but worry about the dark circles under her eyes and the disheveled appearance.

So, as soon as Tony gave him the address of this Baker Shelter she was volunteering at in her spare time, after checking that Darcy had really preceded him by at least fifteen minutes, he made his way to the Sanctuary for Third Strike Dogs.

Well, he hadn’t expected that.

When Tony had said ‘Shelter’ he had expected some kind of tiny building with some pens, they were in the middle of New York after all, not… this. A huge compound of four buildings was not in the cards, was it?

But here it was, and in front of it a group of people in green T-Shirts or tank tops proclaiming _‘I support Baker, do you?’_ barring access to the premises to what looked like the NYPD.

“Look, ma’am, we just-” The officer was stammering in front of a very pissed looking Darcy.

“You just nothing, agent. We didn’t do anything wrong. This place is a Safe Haven, this is legal. _We have the papers!”_ She was almost shrieking, her hands balled into fists.

“We are not disputing the legality of this thing!” protested loudly the agent, “we just received a report of a missing woman and this was her last whereabout. Her husband is quite-”

“She’ll be pressing charges against him!” A redhead with glasses shouted from the line of volunteers and the others backed her up, tightening their ranks in front of the door.

“Look, agent,” Darcy tried with practised calm, “we understand you’re doing your job, but we cannot and will not give names of our guests. _We can’t._ Take it to your boss, take it to the Heads of Baker Shelter, but we volunteers _are not letting you pass and violate the rights of these people!_ ” She gestured to a lanky boy and a megaphone was thrust in her hand. “We’re not afraid of making ourselves heard, _WE HAVE RIGHTS_!”

A chorus of ‘We have rights’ was heard all around and Sam found himself chanting it as well, albeit with a very low voice. It was the kind of fight he could understand, the need to protect the weak and to not give in to the unjust demands. Cap would have approved too.

The police were clearly there because ordered, because they weren’t really trying to get any sort of information or to even pass across the group of people. It was a token attempt at best (one of the officers gave a thumbs up to the volunteers, Sam was sure the captain was going to overlook that as well).  
However, when the officers left, the volunteers almost slumped as one, clearly spent. They were massaging their foreheads and cheering each other very quietly.

“Okay, we have stuff to do, guys!” The redhead that had shouted before tried to say cheerily, and everyone left.

Sam scrambled to intercept Darcy before she entered the bowels of the giant building.

“Hey Darce!” She tensed, turned and, surprisingly, laughed nervously.

“Hi… Sam!” Her smile was tense as well, and alarms started going off in his head.

“What was that?”

“Oh!” Okay, that wasn’t the problem because she started talking a mile an hour, “That was the last attempt of entitled asshole number fifty-two, I think. They’re always trying to find ‘legal ways’ to get their ‘beloved’ back, right? Pity it doesn’t work here.” She nodded at herself, very satisfied.

He nodded back. “Thought this was a dog shelter, though.”

“It… was. And then… it wasn’t?” She winced. “Like, we started as a dog shelter but before we knew it we were taking in people running from Doombots whose houses were destroyed, and then women and men running from abusive partners, homeless people and shit. Now we’re a fully legal compound for Safe Haven and Shelter.” She seemed surprised such a thing had happened. He’d be surprised too, all things considered. It was certainly an impressive building that required a lot of people and attention...

“And that AI of yours helps you run things, yeah got it.”

She choked. “I… I’m a volunteer here, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” She whispered harshly.

“Okay, okay, got you!” He raised his hands. “I think it’s cool. Honestly.”

They spent the next few moments in silence, watching the people bustling around with tools and wallpapers.

“Can you give me a tour?”

Darcy smiled widely. “Sure!”

* * *

 

They were walking around the new building when it happened.

And okay, Darcy should have seen it coming, she’d just hoped it wouldn’t be quite this soon.

But Sam stopped dead in his tracks and, following his gaze, Darcy’s stomach sank.

Bucky slash ‘Jack’ was passing by with two humongous paint cans that couldn’t possibly be moved around by a normal human being. _Fuck._

Sam’s eyes sought out hers quickly and his mouth tried to work a few times. Was he paler? Oh God, he looked paler.

“Darcy… is that…?” _Oh no. Nope._

“That’s Jack,” she said with a completely straight face.

"Jack."

"Yes. Jack," she replied with finality.

"The same Jack that once tried to murder me on a bridge?" he worked out after a few seconds.

"I don't know about that Jack, but this one has a sparkly Elsa on his arm. Did your Jack have it too?" The kids had drawn that one day, and it had stuck. Darcy found it deliciously ironic.

"...I don't think so. I got a pretty good look at it when he riPPED MY STEERING WHEEL OUT OF MY CAR."

"Then yeah, it's a totally different Jack. Why don't you help me with this and we let him do his job?"

He wasn’t convinced. “Darcy, that man, he’s-”

“A guest,” she said, slowly. “Jack Robins is a guest of the Baker Shelter. He lives here, works here and is legally registered here. Do you understand, Sam?” She kept her eyes fixed on him. “I understand where you’re coming from and your concerns, they’re noted, _but Jack is one of us, now._ He has the same rights as everyone else. He’s a hard worker, and he’s trying very hard. He’s great with the kids and kind to the other people. This is his second chance and you have no right to force him to do anything.”

Sam’s arms shot up at the first ‘trying very hard’. “Okay, okay, woah, girl. Calm down.” He took a deep breath. “I’ve worked at the VA for a while, Darcy, I’m not the judgy douche that wants to criticize you, okay? I just… how long has… Jack, been staying with you?”

“Five months.” She replied promptly.

“And, everything okay? Like, no accidents.. nothing?”

“No,” she stressed. “Look, Sam, I get it. I know that there will be setbacks, okay? But I trust him to know when it’s too much, I trust him to trust himself. Can you do that too? Without alerting Steve, possibly?”

Sam thought about it for a while, sometimes looking at the back of Jack, who was now wrestling the paint like a pro to decorate the interior of the building.

“I… yeah of course. But I’m coming over to check on him, frequently. And I still don’t like him.”

Darcy smiled, nodding easily, “I don’t expect you to like him, but that’s okay. Thanks Sam, you’re the best.”

“...You’re welcome. I just wish I didn’t have this feeling of ‘you sold yourself to the devil’ … you know?”

She laughed uneasily. He had no idea.

* * *

 

Steve’s wingman was there again.

Looking at him.

Staring at him.

At least it wasn’t the hateful or terrified look he was expecting.

Wilson, Sam, pararescue, didn’t particularly like him. That was cool, he didn’t like him either.

And he supposed he could understand, what with the whole ‘I tried to kill you’ shtick he’d pulled last year.

He wasn’t going to chicken out of his responsibilities on that one, despite the words of his therapist. Yes, it wasn’t his _‘his’_ fault, but he could understand the other man’s reservations.  

It didn’t stop making his back itch every time his stare turned towards him, though.

“Are you quite done staring, wingman?” He snarked from the kitchen sink he was fixing.

“Nnope.” Sam drawled from the opposite side of the room. Bucky had no idea how, but Darcy had managed to rope him into mounting the shelves and the suspended cabinets. She was that kind of taskmaster, the boss-lady.

“Careful with those, kids will be in this room a lot.” He remarked.

Wilson cursed from behind him “Dude, I know. Ouch.”

Bucky snickered. “Did you just hammer your finger?”

“...No. Shut up.” Bucky’s lips twitched. _Kids these days._ “Get back to your sink, old man.” Sam grumbled.

“You okay here, boys?” Darcy poked her head from the other room, looking at them with narrowed eyes.

“Yes, Darcy,” they droned.

“Good, good. Hey, Jack, the sink screw’s loose.”

“..Wha?” But yeah, with a hissing sound the sink decided that this was an excellent moment to spit its whole contents on him.

Wilson’s braying was heard all over the compound.

_Oh yes, he disliked him too._

* * *

 

“Hey, Darce!”

The voice was so unexpected in the silence of the room that Darcy dropped her needles and yarn on the floor. Their loud clattering was ominous.

“Crap.” Bucky whispered.

“Oh. My. God.” Darcy reached for her needles, but it was too late, she’d dropped at least one stitch.

“You… you... you made me drop a stitch. Oh my God you-” She couldn’t find the right words to express the pain at the idea of restarting from scratch. Or having to re-ladder them. Oh God.

“Sorry?” He looked contrite, but you could never tell with his puppy eyes. “In my defense, I had no idea you were doing… whatever you were knitting, doll, sorry.”

“It’s… I have no chances of actually murdering you, right?” She could always die trying…

He laughed. “No. You can always try, but that’s not happening.”

“Yeah thought so. I have a taser though?”

He winced. “Yeah no, let’s not test that. What were you making?”

She tried to smooth over her project and put it away very carefully _(it was delicate stuff!)._ “It’s a sweater. Or at least, it will be?”

He nodded and probably contemplated looking at it, but one look at her made him rethink his position. He dropped his hand and sat on the sofa beside Darcy.

“Isn’t it a bit too warm for sweaters?”

“By the time I finish this, it’ll be December,” she grumbled, peeved. He chuckled softly. She hit him on the shoulder. He just chuckled harder.

“Sorry,” he said again.

She sighed. “It’s okay. You couldn’t have known. Anyways, did you need something?”

“Mh? Oh yeah.” He stood up. “We’re done with the top floor, we need to move up to the attic.”

Whoa, that was fast! They’d started repainting it three days ago. She smiled happily and cheered “Nice, I’ll be right there. Seriously, you do as much as ten men would in the same amount of time. We’re glad to have you here.”

His face broke into a pleased smile, “I’m glad to be here, too.”

But then his face darkened a bit and she could see right through him. _Steve_.

“Uhm.. Buc-Jack… Do you, I mean… It’s been over five months since you’ve been here… Do you.. uhm, would you like to tell… Steeve?” She tried delicately, and tactfully. Seriously, this was not her forte

“No.” He said quickly. “I… I’m not… Not today. Maybe later...”

“Hey hey, it’s okay. No problem, dropped it. Like a hot potato,” she said quickly, “Speaking of potatoes, I’m hungry.”

She wasn’t going to push this, for today.

And she didn’t push tomorrow, and the day after. And then, it never seemed a good time.

* * *

 

Turns out, it’s ‘The American Way’ that creates ‘a good time’.

Or, for another wording, finds out the stupidest way it can to fuck with your life...

* * *

 

For a different reading: It didn’t take long for Steve to notice that Sam was hiding something, and that it was somehow related to the many afternoons he spent outside the Tower.

He’d almost believed Tony when he said it could be a girlfriend (or a lady friend), but carefully blank looks Sam was giving him every time had started to become suspicious.

Covert agent he was not, but he was certain he could find a way to follow Sam, if he wanted to.

So he wore his most nondescript jersey, a baseball cap and was ready to leave.

“Are you going somewhere, Captain Rogers?” JARVIS’s voice interrupted his train of thoughts.

“Oh. Yes, Jarvis, I’ll be back for dinner. I think.”

“So noted, Captain Rogers.”

“Thanks, Jarvis.” And then he pondered. “Say, Jarvis, do you know where Sam spends all of his time recently?”

“Certainly, sir.” The AI responded promptly. “Mr Sam Wilson spends his afternoons with Miss Lewis...” _There was a girlfriend?!_ “...at the Baker Shelter for Third Strike animals, sir.”

Oh.

That was… nice.

He had not expected that. “Are they dating?” Not that it was any of his business, but now he was admittedly curious.

“Not to my knowledge, sir,” JARVIS said politely, “they’re fixing a new housing facility for women in need. It’s one of the activities of the Foundation, after all.” He seemed almost… proud of this. Could an AI be proud? Well, JARVIS certainly was.

“...Do you know where it is, Jarvis?”

“Certainly, sir. Take the third…”

* * *

 

This was certainly impressive.

The buildings formed a massive compound of tiny apartments and the central, big building that Steve was pretty sure was meant to be the actual Shelter.

He walked through the gates without a problem; in fact, no one seemed to _care_ that Captain America was walking among them. He kind of liked it.

He hadn’t seen any dog yet, but it was pretty cloudy and he still had no idea where he was going. Well, not precisely, at least.

Of course all these thoughts flew out of the window when he got close to the building in construction at the far right corner of the compound.

Because laughing softly at some guy’s joke like he belonged there while hauling wooden boards, was his friend Bucky.

And it was like the air was sucked out of his lungs, and for a second he felt dizzy.

In that moment, Sam’s unwillingness to go out and search for Bucky made a lot more sense. Of course.

In the end, though, he didn't even care that Sam had hidden it from him, because Bucky was here. Bucky was right in front of him.

And by the way he’d dropped the boards he was hoisting on his shoulder, Bucky had seen him too.

Steve saw the exact moment in which Bucky contemplated running, and tensed, because there was no way they were doing that cat and mouse shtick of his in a populated area (Hydra bases were tasteless enough), but Bucky steeled himself and made his way towards him.

“Bucky.” He breathed.

“...Steve,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

That… didn’t sound like the correct question. Was there a script for this kind of situation? “I was looking for Sam, actually… Didn’t expect to find you here.”

Bucky shrugged, and Steve felt a pang of something in his chest. “Bucky, I’ve been looking for you for _over a year_. You- How-... How long have you been here?”

“...Six months…” Bucky didn’t really sound pleased to be interrogated.

“Six- Six months!?” Steve choked. He’d been looking for him all over God’s green Earth and he’d been living less than five minutes from the tower for six months?!

“Yes. Steve, I-”

Steve shook his head. “No, I… I’m sorry, Bucky, I should have been there for you, I should have looked for you… You’re my best pal and I left you behind, I’m so sorry.” He put his arms around his friend and hugged him, not caring of the dirty clothes. “There’s so much we need to catch up on.”

Bucky looked stricken. “Steve, that’s-”

Steve dropped his arms. “I know now things are different and-”

“Steve.” Steve stopped at the tone of Bucky’s voice. “I. I’m not coming with you.” What? Steve frowned. Bucky sighed. “I- I want to stay here. I didn’t come back to you, because I… I don’t want to fight again. You’ll always want to fight, you always did, punk. Gave me a few heart attacks back in the day. But… that’s it. I’m done fighting. I’m done with superheroes and supersoldiers and… I’m done. I… I’m just ‘Jack’ here, and it’s… I like it.”

Steve knew everything about his Bucky, upside down and front and backwards, and he was still shocked to hear that from his mouth. And then, he looked into his friend's eyes, and he realized that he was tired. And ready to start a new page. And if there was someone who deserved it, it was Bucky. "...Okay."

And he saw the relief in his friend’s eyes, and knew it had been the right thing to do.

“Hey, Jack!” A voice behind them made him turn around. It was Darcy, looking at her phone, “what’s taking you so long, you’re usually-Hiiiii Steve…” Her smiled turned forced. “Oh boy.”

* * *

 

Life went… surprisingly normal after that.

If you didn’t count the fact that Tony almost thought of a murderbot but was stopped by Bruce, the Avengers stormed a Sokovian base and found tortured kids (and Darcy appointed herself as caretaker there, because she didn’t believe any of them, _except maaaybe Clint?_ , were able to take care of teenagers with their hero schedule), Bucky found himself a black dog he named Dodger and that ‘Captain America’ had become a fixture at the shelter (and that was great for keeping the ne'er do well far enough off), life was extremely boring.

It was almost Christmas and everyone was freezing their asses off. “What’s this?” Darcy turned to a curious Bucky, who was using his ungloved hand to poke at a fluffy package on the table.

“It’s yours. It’s the thing.” She tried to be cool about it, but she’d been debating whether or not to give it to him all day.

True to her words, it’d taken Darcy that long to finish her sweater.

It was a red, fluffy thing with a black and white dog knitted on it. “...Thanks?”

He didn’t really understand the reference, and Darcy probably got that, because, “It’s Baker.”

“...What?” Baker the shelter name?

“Uhm, long story short, Murderbot attacked us all in New Mexico and I saved that dog from wreckage, I named him Baker but I had to let him go. So.. uhm, yeah. That’s Baker.”

She smiled tentatively “It’s a … _‘one of us_ ’ sorta thing, right? But I thought you’d appreciate something warmer than the T-Shirt…”

Oh.

Well, he’d have appreciated a gift from a pretty girl back in the day, and he’d have appreciated a gift from Darcy these days, but this had a whole different meaning.

“Thanks” He said, sincerely.

Her smile lit up the whole room.

  


 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Notes on Fact checking, because man this took a lot of time.  
> \- Lottery Winners and anonymity.  
> While in the US lottery winners are announced with name and surname, there have been cases in the UK where the winners remained anonymous.
> 
> \- Knitting  
> Thanks to Queenie for checking the accuracy on that one. Thank you again!
> 
> \- Dodger the dog.  
> For those who are curious, Dodger the black dog is bloomsoftly's original character. You can read all about him in [ Trade your broken wings](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9859376/chapters/22124021). Such a splendidous job and fiction, you should read it if you're into Wintershock! 
> 
> **I hope you liked it. If you did, please leave a comment and make my day?** Please? :)


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